


Bleeding Out

by InkThief



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Angst, Bellarke, F/M, Family, Fighting, Friendship, Injured Clarke, Protective Bellamy, The 100 - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-05
Updated: 2015-06-02
Packaged: 2018-03-29 04:55:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 14,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3883090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InkThief/pseuds/InkThief
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Clarke gets seriously injured during a Grounder attack, Bellamy does everything he can to make sure she stays alive. But when the situation grows worse, he realizes he must take the chance to let Clarke know just how much he cares about her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story went in a completely different direction than I originally intended. I apologize in advance if your electronic device becomes damaged from your tears.
> 
> The story is finished, so updates will come based on when I have time to type it all up (shouldn't be too long).

Clarke should have known from the start that running out into the woods was not the wisest idea, especially with the Sky People’s rocky alliance with the Grounders, but the only thing she really cared about at the moment was getting away from her mom. The sun had just begun peeking over the trees and already Abby Griffin was being so stubborn and unreasonable about getting their people out of Mount Weather that Clark couldn’t stand to listen to another minute of her mom’s painfully cautious reasoning. 

“Clarke,” Abby said, reaching out to put a comforting hand on her daughter’s shoulder. “I know you want to take action right away, but we need to think about things--make a real plan.”

Shaking off her mother’s hand, Clarke looked right into her eyes and let out a breath of disbelief. “Don’t you get it? We don’t have time! Every day we wait to do something is another day closer to our people’s death. Don’t you care?” Furious tears spilled over her cheeks, and it only made Clarke angrier when Abby took a step toward her, eyes filled with pity, as if she could hug Clarke and that would make everything alright, as if her embrace alone could free Clarke’s friends from Mount Weather, as if a mother’s love could make Clarke forget the love she had for her friends. But hugs could not do that, so Clarke gave her mom one last defiant look before running out of the tent and straight into Bellamy.

Clarke bounced off his chest hard enough to leave them both staggering back a few steps.

“Hey, Princess, watch where--” Bellamy cut off as he noticed the tears streaming down Clarke’s face. He reached out as if to comfort her, but Clarke gave a small sob and turned in the other direction, striding towards the gate, hoping she could get out fast enough that no one else would notice her crying. Of all the people in Camp Jaha, Bellamy Blake was the last person Clarke would have chosen to see her tears, and the fact that he had only made her more upset.

The guards posted at the gate looked at Clarke in alarm as she stopped in front of them.

“Open the gate. Now,” Clarke said as menacingly as she could manage through her tears.

The guards exchanged a look that clearly showed their answer would be a firm “no” even if Clarke was the Chancellor’s daughter. Especially because she was the Chancellor’s daughter. 

Just when Clarke was about to force her way through, a familiar and oddly comforting voice came from behind her. “Open the gate for her. Don’t make me ask you twice.” It was Bellamy, of course. Clarke should have realized he would follow her. He probably wanted to know why she was crying, maybe even tease her about it. 

To Clarke’s surprise, the guards allowed her and Bellamy to pass. Bellamy gave a quiet “thank you” as he walked by the two men. They nodded curtly--almost respectfully, but not quite.

As soon as Clarke stepped outside the doors, she ran for the woods, wanting to get away from people--from her mother, from all the memories of everything the 100 had survived just for 47 of them to die because the adults wouldn’t do anything. Why was it that she, who had led her people here on the ground, should be treated like a child? Why should any of the original 100 have to be treated like they weren’t the first ones on the ground, like they didn’t build a camp, like they didn’t battle disease, hunger, the Grounders, and each other?

Clarke ran until she was too exhausted to keep going. She let herself fall into a sitting position, knees drawn to her chest, and gazed out into the forest. Bellamy gently sat beside her, legs stretched out, arms supporting him from behind. They sat in silence for a minute or so, listening to the birds chirping.

Eventually Bellamy turned his head to look at Clarke’s face and was alarmed to see she was crying again. Concern grew in his eyes and he sat up, putting a hand on her arm. “What’s wrong, Princess?” he asked softly. Clarke buried her face into her knees and gave a few hiccuping sobs, shoulders shaking from the weight of the sorrow.

“Clarke?” Bellamy moved his hand from Clarke’s arm to her hand, tugging a little to get her to look at him. When she looked up, Bellamy saw anger, sorrow, and frustration in her bright eyes. Clarke just looked at him almost pleadingly, as if she was asking him to take all the pain away.

I would take all of it if I could, Princess, he thought sadly. Since he couldn’t do that, instead he folded Clarke into his arms and just let her cry. 

To Clarke’s own surprise, as much as she didn’t want to be so vulnerable in front of Bellamy, she could not resist letting herself melt into his warm embrace, where she felt safe. Bellamy put a hand to her head to hold her face closer to his shoulder, and wrapped the other around her torso, letting his hand find hers and slipping their fingers together. He squeezed her hand to reassure her that this was okay--it was okay to cry because they all had burdens and they all had pain.

When Clarke’s sobs died down to quiet sniffles, Bellamy looked down at her glassy eyes staring vacantly into space; she was drained from crying, he realized.

“When was the last time you got some sleep?” Bellamy said into her hair, which smelled like a mix of pine needles and rain, a scent that made Bellamy think of the word “home.”

Clarke shifted a little in his arms, and Bellamy let her go. “I don’t know. I slept for an hour or two last night. I don’t sleep much these days,” she said, giving him a wry smile. “And by the looks of it, neither do you.”

She was right. Most nights he only slept intermittently at best, constantly waking up to find his mind running so wild with thoughts that he couldn’t fall back asleep.

Bellamy sighed and ran a hand through his hair, looking reluctant to say what was on his mind. “It’s nice and quiet out here,” he said, hoping Clarke would pick up on what he was really trying to say. And of course she did. 

Clarke gave a short laugh and said, “I assume you’re asking if I want to take a nap in the woods.”

Bellamy shrugged. “Whatever you want, Princess.”

“It is, as you say, quiet here,” Clarke said. Her lips pulled up slightly at the edges in a sly smile, and Bellamy knew what her answer would be. 

“It couldn’t hurt,” she continued, “I’m sure my mom will get along fine without me for a little while,” she said, the smile slipping into a bitter frown. Bellamy could now see that Abby and Clarke must have been arguing again. Although Bellamy did not support Clarke’s desire to get revenge on Abby for it, he did support Clarke’s feelings, and right now she needed time to clear her head; maybe they would return and Clarke would be willing to forgive her mother. 

“I’ll keep watch,” Bellamy said, but Clarke shook her head. He looked at her, raising his eyebrows questioningly. 

“You need sleep too. We’re safe here now that we’ve allied with the Grounders.” She lay down and curled up on her side. As much as Bellamy wanted to stay awake and watch over her, he wanted to sleep, and didn’t want to get into an argument with Clarke. So he lay down a few feet away from her and closed his eyes. Sleep came to him faster than a Grounder attack.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go...

When Bellamy woke up, it was sudden and easy, almost as if he had never gone to sleep at all, but he had, and he felt refreshed. He let his eyes wander to the sky; the sun was still high so he must have been asleep for about three hours or so, he figured. Stretching his arms and legs, he rolled over and glanced at Clarke, who was still soundly asleep. It never failed to amaze Bellamy how young and peaceful people looked while asleep, as if they had not yet been touched by the world’s cruel hands. 

Bellamy watched the rise and fall of Clarke’s chest as she breathed in and out. He didn't know when it happened, but sometime between when the 100 first landed on the ground and now, Bellamy had come to care about Clarke. He wanted to protect her. Some nights, when the thoughts keeping him awake were of her, he tried to convince himself that he cared about Clarke like a sister, like he did for Octavia. He was never quite able to make himself believe it.

Bellamy sat up and leaned against a tree, taking a deep breath of fresh air, trying not to let himself get caught up in how beautiful Clarke looked while she was asleep. It dawned on him that they really should be heading back soon, especially since they were alone and weaponless in the woods. The Sky People and the Grounders may have agreed to be allies, but that didn't mean all of them were willing to put up with it. The only thing holding some of the Grounders back from killing them was their fearful respect of Commander Lexa’s wishes. They all knew Lexa would not tolerate traitors, but Bellamy had the feeling some of the Grounders would still like to wreak havoc like Gustus did by poisoning his own cup and blaming it on the Sky People. 

Bellamy let Clarke sleep for another few minutes before he went to wake her up to go. Leaning down beside her sleeping form, Bellamy shook her shoulder gently and said, “Clarke, time to wake up.”

She groaned and swatted at his hands, eyes still closed. 

“I’ll be up in five minutes, Dad,” Clarke managed to say groggily, rolling over so she was facing away from Bellamy, who felt even worse now that Clarke, in her sleep, seemed to have forgotten where they were. Bellamy rubbed his hands wearily over his face, reluctant to disrupt Clarke’s dream about her father. Dreams are the only place the living can reunite with the dead. 

Bellamy gave a resigned sigh and leaned over Clarke to roll her over to face him again. As he did, Clarke opened her eyes blearily and looked up at him with confusion before recognition sparked in her eyes. Mixed in with the recognition was disappointment, and Bellamy knew it was because for a moment Clarke had expected to open her eyes to find her father standing over her. Instead she got Bellamy.

“Hey, sleepy head,” Bellamy said, his mouth quirking up into a soft smile. “We should go.”

Clarke sat up and stretched. “How long have I been asleep?”

“A little over three hours.”

At this statement, Clarke pushed herself onto her feet with an alarmed expression. “Three hours? We need to get back!” She was already imagining how furious her mom was going to be.

Suddenly, Bellamy became very aware of the intimate moment he and Clarke had shared just a few hours ago, and he wasn't sure if Clarke was planning on talking about it or not. Feeling uncomfortable, he reverted back to asshole mode, because he didn't know what else to do. Bellamy rolled his eyes playfully. “That’s what I've been saying, Princess.” 

Clarke gave him that familiar glare of hers, used especially for him. “You should’ve woken me up earlier,” she scolded. 

Bellamy stared at her in amusement, casually leaning against a tree and crossing his arms. “I tried, but you’re like a corpse when you sleep.”

Clarke put her hands on her hips and scowled at him some more. “Come on, Bellamy. Get your ass off that tree and let’s go.” Without waiting to see if he would follow, she turned and started walking back to camp.

“Someone’s not a morning person,” Bellamy muttered good-naturedly before catching up to Clarke.

“My mom is going to kill me,” Clarke went on. “I don’t know what I was thinking, running off into the woods like this. Stupid, really stupid!” At this point, she was talking more to herself than to Bellamy, until she abruptly stopped and spun around to face him. “And you! Why would you follow me? You should not have let the guards open the gate for me.”

The old Bellamy would have gotten angry at that remark, but the new Bellamy couldn't bring himself to yell at her. “Well, I couldn't let our Princess wander away from the castle all alone,” he joked, and was relieved when Clarke just gave a huff of annoyance before continuing to walk, twigs snapping violently under her boots like she needed something else to take her anger out on besides him.

They journeyed through the woods in a slightly uncomfortable silence until Bellamy gave in and said, “I’m sorry, Clarke. I just thought it would be good for you to get away from everything for a while.” He paused, waiting to see if she would reply. When she maintained her stony silence, Bellamy said, “I didn't mean to make you feel uncomfortable or anything earlier when I-- when you know…” he trailed off, unsure of how to proceed on such a touchy subject. 

“When you let me cry on your shoulder?” Clarke finished for him.

They both stopped walking and turned to face each other. Clarke’s eyes had gone all squinty, as if she was trying to read his mind. Bellamy stared back intently, waiting to see if she would go on.

“That’s the thing, Bellamy,” she went on. “It didn't make me uncomfortable, and now I wonder why you even bothered, why you even cared.” She was staring at him with an intensity that made Bellamy scratch the back of his neck in embarrassment. He knew she wouldn't stand down until he gave her an answer.

“We need you, Clarke. The 100 needs you, your mom needs you, the injured and sick need you…” Bellamy's breath hitched as he stopped himself from saying “I need you.” But that’s what he meant and that’s why he cared. He needed her stubborn, strong, brave, and beautiful self, and sometimes he wondered how she didn't see how important she was not only to him, but to everyone. And sometimes he wondered how she didn't see how badly he hid his care--and dare he think it?--love for her. If she noticed, she did a hell of a good job pretending she didn't. 

“And what about you?” she asked with a quiet harshness, and Bellamy knew what she was going to ask next. “Do you need me, or is it just everyone else?” 

Somehow during this conversation, they had both unconsciously gotten closer to each other until they were nearly chest to chest, only Clarke was so short that Bellamy had to look down at her to see her face. 

Bellamy opened his mouth mouth to answer, eyes searching hers, trying to figure out what she wanted him to say, when out of nowhere a Grounder tackled him to the dirt.

Bellamy caught a glimpse of Clarke’s horrified face before the Grounder blocked her from view by kneeling over him with a knife raised. As the knife came down, Bellamy rolled over so the blade hit the ground instead of him. Scrambling to his feet, Bellamy desperately searched the ground for anything he could use as a weapon, but there was nothing but twigs. Bellamy did the only thing he could do: fight the Grounder and try to disarm him. 

As the Grounder advanced towards him again, Bellamy stood his ground and got in a fighting stance.Just as the Grounder was about to lunge, Clarke came up from behind the Grounder with a club-like branch in her hands. With a scream of fury, she swung at the Grounder’s head, who managed to duck in time. Bellamy could see Clarke preparing to take another swing, so he launched himself at the Grounder’s back to stop him from dodging it again. Bellamy clung to the Grounder’s broad shoulders, and as he staggered back, Clarke’s branch made contact with the Grounder’s right arm, the arm with the knife. Bellamy grabbed at the blade as the Grounder roared with pain and fury, throwing Bellamy off his back. 

The Grounder pulled out a long sword this time, but Bellamy had a knife now. He struggled to get up off his back, winded from the fall. He winced in pain, but knew he had to get rid of this Grounder, who was now advancing towards Clarke. A sword against a branch would be no fair fight. 

Bellamy stood and aimed the knife at the Grounder’s back, preparing to throw it. The Grounder raised his sword to strike Clarke, but Bellamy hurtled the knife as hard as he could; it lodged itself deep into the Grounder’s back. 

It seemed for a moment that time had frozen as the Grounder fell to his knees, finally defeated. But before he dropped to the ground completely, he swiped at Clarke with his sword and crumpled to the ground, dead.

“Clarke!” Bellamy shouted and ran over to her. She was breathing hard and clutching a hand to her side, trying to slow the blood pouring out of her body. She looked at him with eyes filled with fear and pain, then collapsed. Bellamy caught her before she hit the ground, and all he could think was, “Not today, Princess. You are not dying today!”

Bellamy gently set Clarke on the ground and tore off a piece of his jacket to tie around the wound. “Shit, Clarke,” he swore as the blood continued to soak through the bandage. 

Clarke’s eyes were still open and she groaned in pain, reaching out to the cut.

“Don’t touch it, Clarke,” Bellamy said, tying another layer of bandage around her. 

“It needs...pressure,” she panted, once again trying to press her shaking hands to her wound. Sweat rolled down her forehead and she gasped as she pushed down on the cut.

“Clarke, stop. Let me.” Bellamy moved her hands away and replaced them with his own. He pushed down and Clarke cried out. “It’s okay, shhh, it’s okay,” Bellamy said, stroking her forehead and cheeks, nearly crying himself from seeing her in so much pain. She was shaking so much and suddenly she turned her head and vomited violently, gasping for air. This was not looking good at all, and Bellamy wasn't a doctor, but he was pretty sure she was going into shock. He did not at all like the pale color her face had turned. 

When Clarke’s eyelids started to flutter shut, Bellamy pleaded, “No, you have to stay awake, Clarke! Clarke!” She was already unconscious. Bellamy swore loudly and scooped Clarke up into his arms and started to run as fast as he could back to camp. He needed Abby, and he needed her now.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have abundant love for Bellamy & Octavia's relationship. Please enjoy this small brother/sister moment.

Although Clarke was not heavy, Bellamy had a hard time hurdling various logs and branches that littered the forest floor while carrying her dead weight. He almost tripped, nearly launching Clarke right out of his arms, but he managed to catch himself, silently scolding himself; Clarke could not bear any more injuries.

It didn’t take more than three minutes or so for Bellamy to reach Camp Jaha, but by this time, his hands were coated in Clarke’s blood, and he could feel it seeping through his shirt. The guards standing at the gate saw him coming and ran to let him in.

“I need Abby. Someone get the Chancellor out here right now!” Bellamy shouted to no one in particular as he strode towards the med bay, through the crowd of people that had gathered. “Hang in there, Princess,” Bellamy spoke urgently into Clarke’s ear.

Octavia sprung from the crowd and walked alongside Bellamy, putting her hand on his arm. “Bellamy, what happened?” Tears were already streaming down her face as she took in Clarke’s still form.

“One of your Grounder friends attacked us!” he snarled at her, and she stopped walking; a hurt and angry look glinted in her eyes, but Bellamy kept walking.

Abby finally emerged from the fallen Ark station with Kane trailing behind her. She took one look at Clarke’s bloody form and ran to them, worry creasing her eyebrows together. “Get her to the med bay now. She’s losing too much blood,” Abby commanded in her doctor voice. She knew when to leave her emotions behind so she could get her work done properly, and this filled Bellamy with a greater feeling of confidence that Abby could fix Clarke.

Inside the med bay, Bellamy set Clarke on one of the tables and stood back as multiple people moved about the room in an ordered frenzy. Bellamy was able to get one last glimpse of Clarke’s face before he was ushered into another room to be examined for injuries.

Bellamy stared listlessly at a wall as he sat on a table while a nurse poked and prodded at him, producing multiple winces and intakes of air from Bellamy. After the nurse confirmed that he was fine other than some bumps and bruises, Bellamy got up to see if there was news on Clarke, but the nurse pushed him back onto the table and said kindly, “Dr. Griffin wants you to stay here until she can come check up on you.”

Bellamy nodded, still feeling quite dazed. It was only when Octavia entered that he realized he was crying, tears silently carving through the dirt on his face. He reached up to wipe them away, but Octavia caught his wrist and directed it towards a bucket of water. Right. He still had Clarke’s blood on his hands.

“Clarke will be okay,” Octavia soothed him as she scrubbed at his hands.

Bellamy looked at his little sister tenderly, then whispered, “Thanks, O. I’m sorry about snapping at you” He lowered his eyes but avoided looking at this bloodied hands. 

Octavia sighed and removed his hands from the water. She set to work drying them. “Bellamy, I forgive you. I understand you were upset, but you can’t keep blaming and hating all the Grounders for the actions of one.” Finished with the drying, Octavia twined her fingers through Bellamy’s and looked at him with a fierce kind of concern.

Bellamy gave her a sad smile. “I know. I’m trying to be okay with this alliance, but when one of them goes and hurts our people, it’s hard not to be angry. He hurt Clarke.” Bellamy ended with this statement as if that explained everything. 

“You care about her,” Octavia stated. It wasn’t a question.

“Of course. We’re partners, we’re the leaders of the 100.”

“Right,” Octavia agreed, but with the insinuation that there was more to it that Bellamy wasn’t ready to admit just yet. 

Octavia stood. “Get some sleep, Bell. I’ll wake you when there’s news.”

“O, wait,” Bellamy said. He stood up as well and wrapped his sister in a hug. “I love you.”

“Love you too, Bell.” She looked up and he saw tears in her eyes. “Clarke is strong,” she said simply. 

"Clarke is strong," Bellamy whispered.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have some Bellarke fluff

Instead of resting like he was supposed to, Bellamy paced the tiny room anxiously, trying not to imagine the worst. What if he was too late getting Clarke here? What if she had lost too much blood to be saved? Bellamy couldn’t help feeling like it was his fault this happened; if he hadn’t ordered the guards to open the gate for Clarke, she wouldn’t have gone out into the woods. She never would’ve had the chance of being attacked.

The door rattled open, and Bellamy stopped his pacing as Abby entered the room. He looked at her, eyes wide. “How is Clarke? Is she going to be okay?” He tried reading Abby’s expression for any sign of how things had gone, but she gave away nothing in her gaze. 

“Sit down, Bellamy.” Abby pulled over a metal chair and put a gentle hand on Bellamy’s shoulder.

He sat down, now expecting bad news. He gripped the sides of the chair and leaned forward. “I wasn’t too late, was I?”

“No. Clarke is alive, and we managed to stabilize her for now, but we’re going to have to keep a close eye on her. She lost a lot of blood and we were able to do a transfusion, but she’s very weak. Nothing is certain as of now.”

These words processed with Bellamy like he was ingesting poison; he felt slightly sick at the thought of their brave leader, his Princess, on the brink of death. But she was holding on, and for that Bellamy felt a little better. Clarke was stubborn and he had to believe she would hold on to life with every bit of strength she had. 

“Can I see her?” Bellamy asked, although he doubted Abby would allow him.

Abby sighed and Bellamy saw the first signs of worry creased in her brows and seeping into her normally stony eyes. “You saved my daughter’s life. It’s the least I can do in return.”

Abby walked to the door and Bellamy followed. She led him through a short hallway before stopping him in front of a closed door. She turned around and said, “Thank you. If you hadn’t been there with Clarke…” she shook her head and Bellamy saw her blink back tears. She held the door open for him but she didn’t enter. “I’ll be in the meeting room if you need me.”

Bellamy nodded and watched her walk away for a few seconds. He thought that even though Abby could be difficult sometimes, she really did have Clarke’s best interests in mind. 

Bellamy turned around and made his way over to where Clarke was resting on a small cot. An IV connected her to a bag of fluids dangling from a pole. He pulled over a chair and took in Clarke’s deathly pale face. She looked so tiny and vulnerable like this; so different from the assertive, independent girl he was used to seeing. It made him sad to think how quickly things could change; how fragile their lives were. 

Bellamy gave the room a glance over, as if he was making sure they were truly alone; Satisfied they were, he took Clarke’s small, cold hand into his own and gave it a soft kiss. “You’ll pull through this, Princess. I know you will,” he murmured. He stared intently at her closed eyes, wishing he had the power to open them. He wanted to see her striking blue eyes again. He wanted to see her hesitant smiles. Hell, he even wanted to hear her yelling at him again if it meant he could hear her voice and see the life in her again. At that moment, Bellamy Blake wanted a lot of things, but most of all, he wanted Clarke to stay alive. 

Sometime during Bellamy’s visit, he must have fallen asleep, because he woke to find his head resting on the cot next to Clarke’s. His fingers were still locked around Clarke’s. Bellamy sensed the presence of someone nearby. When he opened his eyes, he saw Abby crouching over the other side of Clarke to check her bandages.

Abby must have sensed his awakening because she straightened up and smiled down at him. “I didn’t want to wake you. I figured you needed the sleep.”

Bellamy sat up and removed his hand from Clarke’s feeling embarrassed at being caught in this situation by Clarke’s own mother. Bellamy still wasn’t sure how Abby felt about him. He cleared his throat awkwardly and rubbed his stiff neck. “Uh, thanks.”

Abby smiled and resumed peeling back Clarke’s bandages.

“How does it look?” Bellamy asked.

“Fine for now. I just need to keep cleaning the wound to make sure it doesn’t become infected.”

“When will she wake up?”

“It’s hard to say,” Abby replied. Her eyes squinted as she rubbed alcohol over the wound with care. “Clarke lost a lot of blood and her body needs time to heal and gain back energy. I wouldn’t expect anything for at least another day or so.”

Bellamy stood to leave. Although he did not want to leave Clarke, he figured Abby might want to be alone with her daughter.

“Bellamy,” Abby said.

He turned around.

“I’ll let you know if anything changes, but feel free to visit whenever you like.”

“Thank you,” Bellamy said, surprised. Maybe Abby didn’t hate him as much as he thought she did. Or maybe she saw how much he cared about Clarke.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the calm before the storm. Brace yourselves.

A restless night passed, followed by another agonizing day, and Clarke still remained unconscious. Bellamy stopped by the med bay whenever he could, but each time it was the same: Abby would shake her head, lips drawn in a tight line. The only difference was the increasing worry in Abby’s eyes with each passing hour. 

It was nearing nightfall on the third day when Kane approached Bellamy and said Abby wanted him in the med bay.

“Is Clarke awake?” Bellamy threw down the ax he was using to chop wood, which he was doing more out of need of a distraction than actual need of firewood. 

“I’m not sure,” Kane said, shaking his head and glancing over his shoulder at the med bay. His head turned back to Bellamy and Kane looked at him with steady gray eyes. In them, Bellamy saw a certain hopelessness that he himself refused to feel. Clarke would be fine. 

Bellamy tore his eyes away from Kane and strode towards the med bay, hoping for the best, but also preparing for the worse. 

Upon entering the room where Clarke had been for the past three and a half days, Abby stood from where she was inspecting Clarke’s wound with worry-filled eyes. 

“I take it you aren’t about to give me good news,” Bellamy said. 

Abby sighed and placed a hand over one of Clarke’s. Abby gazed at her daughter’s face, eyes burning with anguish and tears clinging to the edge of her eyelashes. Finally she swallowed and replied, “The wound is infected. Clarke has a low- grade fever.” 

Bellamy could tell that Abby was trying to say this matter-of-factly, as if she was afraid that putting emotion into it would make the situation worse, as if she couldn’t handle trying to care for her dying child if emotions were holding her back. Bellamy did not blame Abby for feeling this way. 

“What does that mean for her?” Bellamy could not bring himself to ask “is she going to die?” Saying the words out loud made it too real, and Bellamy did not want this to be real. But it was. It was painfully real.

Abby tore her gaze from Clarke and met Bellamy’s eyes. “All I can do is keep cleaning the wound and hope the fever kills off the infection. Without the proper medicine, all we can do is pray Clarke can fight this off on her own.” Abby looked back down at Clarke intently and smoothed back her tangled blonde curls. 

Bellamy remained silent, but in his head he was chanting, “stay strong, stay strong, stay strong,” over and over. He wished Clarke could hear him, wherever she was in her unconscious state. 

Abby continued, “Someone will have to be with her at all times to make sure the fever doesn’t get any higher. And the cut needs to be cleaned often.” She trained her eyes on Bellamy. “We’ll gather a group to rotate watch on her. I assume you want to--”

Bellamy didn’t even wait for Abby to finish the question. “Of course. I’ll go see if Octavia wants to help.”

As it turned out, Octavia was more than eager to help. She chastised Bellamy for even considering that she wouldn’t want to help. Raven, Lincoln, Monroe, and even Murphy all volunteered to help watch over Clarke through the night. 

Bellamy rounded up the group of volunteers into Clarke’s room so Abby could explain how things were going to work. “We’ll each take one hour shifts for as long as needed. Try to keep her cool; I have a bucket of ice water and a few rags for forehead compresses. Every time there’s a shift change, I’ll come by to check the wound. Any questions?” Six grave faces stared back at her. “Okay then. I’ll take first shift. Bellamy is next.” Abby checked her watch; it was now midnight. “I’ll wake you in one hour, Bellamy. All of you should get some rest. It’s going to be a long night.”

Bellamy did not intend to sleep, so he sat down by the fire burning dimly in the middle of camp. To his surprise, everyone else followed. They settled down with their backs leaning against the logs. Lincoln and Octavia sat together, and Octavia let her head rest on Lincoln’s shoulder, who put a comforting arm around her, hands trailing through her braids. Bellamy’s gaze softened as he looked at them; it was clear Octavia was in good hands. Although Bellamy still found it hard to trust any Grounder, he truly was grateful for Lincoln, and happy for Octavia. He knew he could trust Lincoln to keep her safe. 

No one spoke for a few minutes as they all stared into the strangely hypnotizing flames of the fire. 

Raven eventually sat up and criss-crossed her legs. She looked at Bellamy carefully, with apprehension. “Bellamy.” 

He tore his eyes away from the fire. “What?”

Raven leaned forward, eyes on the ground. She fiddled with a small piece of metal lying in the dirt. “I think we need to talk about what we’re going to do if Clarke doesn’t make it.” Everyone’s heads shot up in alarm at Raven’s suggestion, but she ignored them and continued. “Clarke is the only thing keeping our alliance with the Grounders intact, as well as keeping the adults in this camp off our asses.”

“What are you suggesting?” Murphy asked harshly. “That we leave?”

“That’s exactly what I’m suggesting,” Raven answered with equal venom. “We won’t be safe here.”

Octavia sat up straighter and the fire in her eyes suddenly burned brighter than the fire they sat around. Lincoln put a calming hand on her shoulder, sensing an impending outburst, but Octavia shrugged it off. “The Grounders will not break this alliance,” she said with conviction.

Raven scoffed, throwing Octavia a skeptical glance. “How long do you think Lexa will remain respectful towards us after Clarke is gone?” Raven challenged. “A week? Two weeks? Hell, I bet she won’t even last a day after Clarke is gone before calling off the alliance!”

“Where would we go?” Monroe asked timidly, trying not to provoke Raven any more. 

“Yeah,” Murphy agreed. “And how long do you think we’d last on our own?”

“We lasted long enough down here without the adults. Why can’t we do it again?” Raven defended. 

“Because we won’t have Clarke this time,” Murphy spat. “Princess won’t be here to rule over us,” he said more regretfully than with contempt. 

Bellamy could not take this any longer. “Everyone just stop!” The group fell silent. Bellamy’s chest heaved as he took deep breaths to calm himself. “You are all talking about Clarke like she’s already dead,” he said with exasperation, running a hand through his hair in anger. “Just stop. We are not talking about this. Clarke is alive and she will stay alive. End of story.” He leaned back against the log and crossed his arms, daring someone to argue with him. 

Raven let out a resigned sigh. “You’re right, Bellamy. I’m sorry. It’s just--” she swiped a hand over her eyes briefly “--I can’t lose anyone else I care about. Not again.” She traced the dirt with her finger, afraid to look up and see their reactions. 

Bellamy let the tension slide of out of his shoulders. “I know, Raven. I know.”

Lincoln spoke up. “I have seen the strength Clarke has. I believe she will survive this.” 

No one voiced it, but Lincoln’s confidence in Clarke comforted all of them. When a Grounder claimed someone was strong, you didn’t doubt it. 

“Bellamy.” Abby’s voice suddenly came from behind him. He stood and turned. 

“She’s all yours. Get Octavia in an hour; Octavia, come get me so I can clean the wound.”

They both nodded.

As Bellamy passed Abby to go to the med bay, she stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. Bellamy’s eyes flicked to it uncertainly, wary of what she might say. 

“I trust you,” Abby said. She smiled sadly and left, leaving Bellamy stunned at her confession. He just wished he could have earned that trust another way. He wished it didn’t take such a grave situation for Abby to see that she could trust him. He would rather have Clarke’s life than Abby’s trust.


	6. Chapter 6

Clarke’s room in the med bay was dimly lit by several lanterns that had been pushed into the corners of the walls. The low lighting cast an eerie glow over Clarke’s face, making her look even more gaunt. She was wearing Death’s mask, and Bellamy wanted to pull it off and tell her that she wasn’t allowed to go yet, that she wasn’t allowed to leave him so soon. But Death has a stubborn soul, and Bellamy knew it would take everything Clarke had to beat it. 

Bellamy sat on the chair next to the cot and put a hand to Clarke’s smooth forehead; it was most definitely hotter than it should have been, and he prayed her temperature wasn’t rising. His hand then fell to her wrist and he turned her watch so the face was directed at him; this way he’d be able to mark the end of his shift. Bellamy was amazed that the watch still worked even after it had made the grueling journey from space to Earth; even after it had been drenched in water more than once; even after it had been in the hands of a Grounder before being miraculously retrieved and returned to Clarke. The watch had survived so much abuse, much like its owner, yet still ticked on faithfully. If that wasn’t a good omen, Bellamy didn’t know what was. He hoped Clarke wouldn’t end up in the same position as the man who gave it to her--dead. As much as Clarke would give to see her father again, Bellamy was sure she wouldn’t choose death as her first option.

Letting out a sigh, Bellamy bent over and picked up the compress from the bucket resting on the floor at his feet. He squeezed out the excess water and pressed the rag to Clarke’s forehead. She shivered under the thin blanket covering her body, and Bellamy wished there was another blanket for her. With the shortage of supplies at camp, it seemed there was nothing extra to spare, not even a blanket for the dying girl who had so bravely led her people through the worst that the ground had to offer. It didn’t seem right, and Bellamy squeezed his eyes shut against the anger--against the pain.

As Clarke began to let out a few quiet whimpers, Bellamy opened his eyes and removed the compress, which was dripping cold water into Clarke’s hair. Bellamy dropped the rag in the bucket and moved his hand to Clarke’s forehead, brushing his thumb over the crease between her brows. She choked out a noise that sounded like a sob, and it broke Bellamy’s heart. 

“Hey, it’s okay,” Bellamy soothed, brushing back her hair gently. “I’m right here for you, Clarke.” He continued stroking her forehead, then her cheeks. As he leaned forward and pressed a light kiss on Clarke’s forehead, he heard her breath hitch. When he looked down, he saw that her eyes were open. She fixed her glassy eyes on Bellamy’s face, but he saw no comprehension in her eyes. She was looking right at him, but not really seeing him. 

“Clarke?” Bellamy whispered, but she seemed to be gazing at something far beyond, and she didn’t acknowledge him. She uttered a string of unintelligible words. She paused for a moment then kept mumbling; Clarke was scaring him out of his wits. 

“Clarke!” Bellamy said with more urgency. He gripped the sides of her face and tried to get her to look at him, but her line of sight continued to focus over his shoulder. Bellamy thought he heard “Finn” in the mixture of words, but he wasn’t sure. He was certain, however, that Clarke was delirious and quickly becoming worse. 

Bellamy pressed his hand to Clarke’s forehead and swore; her temperature was rising. “Clarke, please look at me. It’s Bellamy!” He was practically pleading with her, and he wasn’t even certain she could hear him. 

But saying his name aloud seemed to rouse something in Clarke because her eyes jumped open and flitted rapidly back and forth across Bellamy’s face. “Bellamy?” She lifted a burning hand to his cheek. Her soft touch lingered there for a moment before falling away. Her eyes shut again and her breaths started coming out more labored.

“Clarke!” Bellamy practically yelled, but she didn’t respond; she was unconscious and this time he was afraid she wouldn’t wake up again. 

Bellamy stood up so fast that he knocked over the chair he’d been sitting on. It hit the floor with a deafening clang, but he didn’t care. Running out of the med bay, Bellamy sprinted over to the group at the fire and yelled for someone to get Abby. They all looked at him in alarm, but no one spoke. His face surely said it all.

Octavia ran to get Abby and both returned in less than a minute.

“What happened?” Abby asked in a panicked voice, jogging towards Bellamy. 

“She’s worse. Her fever rose and she was delusional for a while, saying stuff that didn’t make sense,” Bellamy explained, his voice rough with emotion. 

“She woke up?” Abby asked, eyes wide.

“For two minutes, maybe,” Bellamy said, “but she didn’t recognize me until right before she fell unconscious again.”

Without another word, Abby turned and ran for the med bay. Bellamy and the others followed close behind, and they all crowded into the room whispering to each other in hushed but strained voices. Abby lifted the bandage covering Clarke’s wound and bit back a gasp. She blinked back tears and looked up at the group of friends anxiously awaiting the verdict. Abby pressed a hand to Clarke’s forehead, then motioned for silence as she placed a stethoscope to her daughter’s chest, listening to her labored breathing for a few seconds. Abby removed the stethoscope with shaking hands. When she looked up, she was crying. 

“She probably won’t make it through the night,” Abby said, pressing a hand over her mouth as if she wanted to stop the words from coming out and stop them from being true.

A bitterness rose up in Bellamy’s chest, and he could only call it something akin to a sorrowful sort of rage. He turned and kicked the wall, which reverberated with a metallic clang. The echo seemed to go on forever, but when it finally stopped, it revealed the sounds of crying from Octavia and Raven, a desperate sobbing that made Bellamy want to scream and curse at the world for taking away the best person to set foot on its soil in 97 years. 

“Can we stay with her?” A voice broke through the clamor in Bellamy’s mind. He saw Monroe and the silent tears she shed and the way she looked like someone had just torn off a piece of her heart, and suddenly Bellamy could not stop the tears from rolling down his own face. He had always tried to be strong, but even the strongest people have their limits. This was his. 

“I think that’s what Clarke would want,” Abby nodded, “to have her friends by her side at the end.” Her voice broke on those last words as all the sorrow and realization that this was truly the end rose into her throat and choked her. 

Chairs were pulled up around Clarke, enclosing her in a circle. Bellamy sat closest to her face, and no one protested or said a word when he immediately claimed one of her hands to hold. Abby sat on the other side and took Clarke’s other hand. Bellamy felt that they were giving Clarke all the love she ever needed, here in this circle of friends, although he was sure that by this point they were more like family. If only Clarke was awake to see it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter.....is Clarke really going to die? You'll have to wait and see.
> 
> Thanks for reading so far! Comments are appreciated!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Change of plans...this won't be the final chapter. Don't read the end notes until after you've read this chapter because it kinda gives away what happens.

The hours ticked by slowly, and no one spoke. All they could do was stand by Clarke in her last moments, and Bellamy hoped that offered her some kind of comfort, even in her unconscious state. He continued to hold her hand throughout the night, rubbing his thumb back and forth softly over the top of her hand, which was startlingly cold. 

Bellamy found it nearly impossible to look at anyone else’s face but Clarke’s. The one time he glanced up at Abby, she was holding Clarke’s hand in both of hers, head bowed, and closed eyes leaking tears. Bellamy could only imagine how painful it was for Abby knowing that her daughter’s last memory of her was their fight. Maybe he imagined it, but Bellamy thought he heard Abby whisper “forgive me” at one point. 

 

It was around five in the morning when things started to change. Mostly deathly silent before, Clarke began having more difficulty breathing than before. Air wheezed in and out of her lungs with a horrible noise at irregular intervals. Abby choked out that the infection had probably reached her lungs, there was nothing they could do, and that Clarke would most likely pass away within the hour. 

As Clarke continued to struggle, choking air in and out, her whole body trembling with the strain of staying alive, Bellamy reached a point where he could no longer take seeing her like this. Her pain was too much to bear quietly.

“Isn’t there any way you can make her more comfortable at least while she---” Bellamy choked on his tears, unable to say “while she dies.”

Abby looked up at him and whispered, “The only thing that will help is death itself. There is no medicine to ease the pain of dying.” 

At this hopeless statement, Raven spoke up, eyes burning with a deep pain from watching her friend die. “Why doesn’t she let go? Why is she still fighting?” Raven put her trembling hands to her face, wiping away the tears that would not stop flowing. 

Octavia shot up from where she was sitting, that familiar fire burning in her eyes. “Because she’s Clarke and she’s strong. That’s why. She’ll give it everything she’s got,” Octavia said with conviction . Leaning forward, Octavia said, “Come on, Clarke! You aren’t done yet. Keep fighting.” Determination flashed in Octavia’s eyes, and Bellamy was startled to see that look he knew from years of standing by his sister’s side. That was her look of absolute, unshakeable faith, her unwavering steely resolve that she would get what she was aiming for. This time, it was Clarke’s life.

Everyone looked up at Octavia in amazement, and no matter how irrational it was, a small flutter of hope stirred in Bellamy’s heart. He had yet to see Octavia fail. This was Clarke’s life on the line, but somehow Octavia found it within herself to believe if she was determined enough, Clarke would live. 

“Octavia…” Abby began in a defeated voice but she was cut off. 

“No!” Octavia insisted. “This is Clarke. This isn’t just anyone. This is Clarke,” she repeated as if that explained everything. 

Lincoln put a hand on Octavia’s shoulder, but she shook it off and rounded the bed so she was standing next to Bellamy. She leaned down to Clarke’s ear and said, “Don’t you even dare, Clarke. Don’t you dare leave us, not today.”

Bellamy almost expected a miracle to occur at Octavia’s words. He imagined Clarke’s eyes flying open and her breathing steadying to normal. Instead, Clarke’s breathing only became more shallow. She was struggling less, and Bellamy knew this was it. 

“Octavia,” he said quietly. He stood up, and Octavia backed down; the last spark of hope was snuffed out. 

Abby stood, and everyone followed suit. “It’s time to say our goodbyes.” She touched a kiss to Clarke’s forehead and murmured a few soft words before pulling back. Her tears lingered on Clarke’s face. Everyone stood around Clarke and each one of them laid a gentle hand on their brave leader’s arms. 

At the last moment, Bellamy came to a decision. He released Clarke’s hand and stroked her hair. She looked so peaceful, like a child. Knowing he would never have another chance, Bellamy leaned over and pressed his lips to Clarke’s with a tenderness he didn’t even know he had. Clarke’s lips were still warm, as if she was just sleeping and not on the brink of death. When Bellamy lifted his mouth from hers, he whispered, “I love you, Clarke. Rest in peace, Princess.” He straightened up and took Clarke’s hand in his once more, setting his mouth in a tight line to keep it from trembling. Abby was sobbing now.

Looking around, Bellamy saw a family. Monroe had a hand on Raven’s shoulder, both in tears, holding on to Clarke tightly with their free hands. Murphy stood on Raven’s other said and had one arm linked through hers to support her. Their hands rested side by side on Clarke’s knee. Lincoln stood behind Octavia, whose back was pressed against his chest. Their hands piled on top of each other, clasping onto Clarke’s wrist. 

Seeing this, Bellamy realized that no matter what their differences were, they all had one thing in common: They cherished Clarke as their leader, as a friend, but most importantly, as a member of their little ragtag family. They were all connected through her, especially now as they all maintained physical contact with her as she journeyed from this life to the next. 

When Clarke breathed out for the last time, she was not alone, and Bellamy knew that now she never would be. This time when Clarke opened her eyes, her father truly would be there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, before you all come after me angry-mob style, let me explain how this is going to work. Because so many of you asked me not to kill off Clarke, I started to feel really bad. This is the original ending I wrote, but I feel guilty now and even I'm crying. So I started writing an alternate ending in which Clarke obviously does not die. It will probably be a few chapters long because once I started writing it, I couldn't stop. So please hang around for that. I'll be posting it soon. THANKS FOR READING! COMMENTS ARE LOVELY!


	8. ALTERNATE ENDING

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the alternate ending where Clarke does not die. It's a bit cheesy and unrealistic, but who cares? I'm pretending it was Bellamy's true love kiss that woke up Clarke, like on Once Upon a Time :D
> 
> This was supposed to be short but once I started writing I couldn't stop, so this will be multiple chapters. At this point, I'm just going to keep writing it until I get to an end. Enjoy!

[ At the last moment, Bellamy came to a decision. He released Clarke’s hand and stroked her hair. She looked so peaceful, like a child. Knowing he would never have another chance, Bellamy leaned over and pressed his lips to Clarke’s with a tenderness he didn’t even know he had. Clarke’s lips were still warm, as if she was just sleeping and not on the brink of death. When Bellamy lifted his mouth from hers, he whispered, “I love you, Clarke. Rest in peace, Princess.” He straightened up and took Clarke’s hand in his once more, setting his mouth in a tight line to keep it from trembling. Abby was sobbing now.]

Bellamy squeezed Clarke’s hand.

Clarke squeezed his hand back. 

It was more of a twitch really, but it surprised Bellamy so much that he jumped up in alarm, tugging Clarke’s entire arm up with him.

“What is it?” Abby asked through her tears.

“She squeezed my hand,” Bellamy breathed out in amazement.

“What?” Abby said.

“She squeezed my hand,” he repeated more loudly, and Abby’s eyes widened.

Abby squeezed Clarke’s other hand. “Clarke, honey? Can you hear me?”

Dead silence dominated the room as they listened to Clarke’s now heavy breathing. Heavy had to be better than shallow, right? 

“Her breathing is getting stronger,” Abby confirmed with a disbelieving smile. 

“She’s waking up!” Raven said, leaning forward and peering at Clarke’s still-closed eyes, which were moving behind her eyelids.

“If we can get her to wake up, she might make it,” Abby said, hope shining in her eyes. She cleared her throat and then said a little more loudly, “Clarke, come on. I need you to open your eyes for me.”

 

Bellamy squeezed Clarke’s hand again and felt her fingers move, closing the tiniest bit to brush against his skin. 

“Clarke, please open your eyes,” Abby continued. “I know it’s hard, but you can do it.”

A quiet groan escaped Clarke’s lips and the whole room erupted in relieved laughter. 

“Come on, Clarke!” Raven said with a smile. “I know you can hear us. If you wake up, we’ll shut up!”

Bellamy joined in the encouraging banter. “Hey, Princess, if you don’t open your eyes right now, I’ll go off and do whatever the hell I want. I know how much you’d hate that.”

Clarke’s eyelids fluttered open and shut slowly. “That’s it Clarke!” Murphy shouted. 

Abby calmed all the shouting and put her hand on Clarke’s forehead. “The fever broke.”  
Finally, Clarke’s eyes fluttered open all the way and Bellamy couldn’t stop the grin that broke out on his face.

The room filled with cheers, causing Clarke to squeeze her eyes shut in confusion as she tried to fully wake up. 

“Okay, okay,” Abby said. “Let’s give her some space. I’ll call you back when she’s more awake.” Abby ushered them all out of the room except Bellamy, who still stood by Clarke’s side, holding her hand. When he started stroking his thumb back and forth over Clarke’s hand, she turned her head as well as she could towards him. She tried to speak through her cracked lips, but all she could manage was a broken whisper. Bellamy couldn’t tell what she was trying to say. “Shhh, Clarke. You don’t have to say anything yet. Just rest.”

“She’s probably thirsty,” Abby said quietly, coming over with a cup of water. 

Bellamy helped to lift Clarke’s head while she she sipped at the water. When she was finished, Bellamy lowered her head back onto the cot gently, stroking her hair. Clarke closed her eyes and for a second Bellamy was afraid she was going unconscious again, but when she breathed out a contented sigh, Bellamy realized it was because she like him stroking her hair. Bellamy smiled fondly and said, “I never thought you’d let me baby you, Princess.” Clarke’s lips pulled up into a tiny smile, and when she opened her eyes to look at Bellamy, her blue eyes were filled with laughter. 

Abby bustled over with a stethoscope and placed it on Clarke’s chest. “Clarke, I need you to take a deep breath in and then back out, slowly.” Clarke obeyed, and Abby nodded her head, satisfied by what she heard. “Your breathing is stronger. Just rest and you’ll be fine.” Abby kissed Clarke’s forehead then left the room, throwing a knowing glance over her shoulder at Bellamy. 

He ducked his head in slight embarrassment then turned back to Clarke. He was startled to see her gazing at him intently. That familiar furrow had appeared between her brows, and it was deep with something akin to pain. 

“You saved my life,” Clarke rasped out, wincing a little as the words rolled out of her throat. “Thank you.”

“Did you doubt I would?” Bellamy whispered. A tear rolled down Clarke’s face and Bellamy reached over to wipe it away. His hand stayed on her cheek. 

“No,” Clarke whispered back, lip trembling. “Not for a moment.”

Summoning his courage, Bellamy said, “Back in the woods you asked me why I even bothered to follow you--why I even cared, but you already know why, Clarke.” 

“What do I already know?” Clarke asked. She brought her hand up to rest on top of where Bellamy’s hand was still on her cheek. She held his hand there on her skin like she never wanted him to let go.

Their eyes met and burned each other, blue and brown fire mixed together, both radiating unspoken words too weighty to be understood out loud. These words could not be spoken aloud, they could only be felt. Bellamy could see it in Clarke’s eyes; she knew. She knew how he felt, but she was afraid, and that was okay because Bellamy was scared too. 

It was easy to see that Clarke didn’t know what to say, and that she was too tired to be having long conversations, so Bellamy said, “Go to sleep.” 

As Clarke’s eyes began to shut, she said, “Stay with me.”

“I’ll be here when you wake up,” Bellamy promised her, and she fell asleep with a smile on her face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading this far! Comments make me super happy :)


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lalala, cute Bellarke and only mild angst!

A week went by, and each day Clarke woke up stronger. She hadn’t said anything yet regarding the conversation Bellamy and her had when she had first woken up. Bellamy started to worry that in the moment, Clarke was so tired that she forgot the entire conversation. He didn’t think this was the case though; he thought either she didn’t feel the same way about him as he felt about her, or she did and was afraid. Bellamy didn’t push her though. Her full recovery was his number one priority right now. 

After the tenth day of bed rest, Clarke had become so restless that she was practically begging her mother to let her go outside for a minute. Clarke got a firm “no,” and she sank back into her pillow in defeat. 

“I’m tired of sleeping,” Clarke said monotonously, expressing her extreme boredom. She blinked at the ceiling and sighed. 

Bellamy sat on the edge of the cot and put a hand on Clarke’s knee. “Do you want me to describe what’s going on outside again?” Bellamy had been keeping Clarke updated on everything from the weather to what they had for breakfast that particular day. It helped her, knowing what was going on, but it was so hard for her not to be a part of it. 

Clarke propped herself up on her elbows and looked at Bellamy with pleading eyes. He trailed his fingers up and down her shin lightly, trying to get her to calm down. 

“I want to go outside, not hear about what’s going on outside! The cut didn’t kill me but this boredom sure will!” Clarke dropped her head back down onto the pillow dramatically.

Bellamy had never seen Clarke act this way before—so completely exasperated that it was driving her crazy. 

“Clarke,” Bellamy said, pulling on her hands. 

“What?” she asked crossly. 

“You may not be capable of walking just yet, but I am,” he said. 

“Yeah I know. Thanks for rubbing it in, asshole,” Clarke deadpanned. 

Okay, that was it. Keeping Clarke cooped up like this was turning her into a grump. Wisely, Bellamy chose not to remark this out loud. “I mean,” Bellamy went on, “that I can carry you outside. That way you can get some air but you won’t be overexerting yourself.”

Clarke was completely shocked for a moment, her mouth slightly open in surprise at his offer. But it soon turned into a scowl. “No way.”

“Why not?” Bellamy asked, genuinely hurt.

“I am not going to let you carry me outside bridal-style like I’m a damsel in distress. I don’t need that. I can just imagine how Raven would react.” Clarke sat up and winced as her wound stretched with her movement.

“Careful, Princess,” Bellamy said, which earned him a sharp glare. 

“I can get outside myself,” Clarke said. Determined, she clenched her jaw and attempted to turn her body so she could swing her legs off the bed. Bellamy heard her teeth grind together in concentration as she swung down first one leg, then the other. She sat there on the edge of the bed, contemplating the floor. 

Bellamy watched in amusement (and slight worry) as Clarke gingerly touched one bare foot to the ground, followed by the other. She was standing, but leaning heavily against the bed. A triumphant and smug smile adorned her face. It was a silent “I told you so.”

Bellamy remained sitting on the bed, hands folded in his lop and a polite smile on his face in a show of mock patience. 

Clarke glanced at him with a hint of uncertainty.

Bellamy raised his eyebrows at her. “Well? What are you waiting for?”

Mumbling in irritation, Clarke took in a deep breath before pushing herself away from the bed. She held on to it with one hand and shuffled slowly towards the door. When she reached the end of the bed, and there was nothing left to hold on to, she stopped, swaying a little, but enough to get Bellamy to put an end to her stubborn pride. 

Bellamy jumped down and rounded the bed so he was facing Clarke. The blood was draining from her face and she looked ready to pass out. Frustrated that she was unable to do such a simple task by herself, Clarke gave Bellamy a look of heartbreaking defeat. A tear slipped down her cheek. 

“Oh, Clarke,” Bellamy said. “Come here.” 

Clarke clasped her arms around Bellamy’s neck and he lifted her back onto the bed. She leaned into Bellamy’s side, sniffling quietly. Bellamy wrapped an arm around her and nestled her into his chest.

“I’m s-sorry,” Clarke sobbed. She gave a choked laugh, “That I always end up crying all over you.” 

Bellamy chuckled and squeezed Clarke tighter. “It’s fine. I’ve been told I’m a great shoulder to cry on, “ he joked, glad when Clarke gave a hiccup of laughter.

“Now tell me what’s going on,” Bellamy said, moving his hand to stroke her hair, knowing now how much it soothed her. “This isn’t just about you not being able to make it to the door, is it?”

“No. It’s—it’s something else.” Clarke paused uncertainly. 

She looked up at Bellamy and searched his eyes—for what, he didn’t know. If she was wondering if she could trust him, he wanted her to know that she could, so he said, “You can tell me anything, Clarke.”

She didn’t respond right away, her face tensed in thought. Bellamy waited patiently; he knew better than to push her before she was ready. When she finally did speak, she simply said, “Is the offer to carry me outside still open?” She chewed on her lip shyly and blushed a little. Bellamy pretended not to notice.

He smiled. “Of course.” It was an obvious deflection of the real reason why she was upset, but Bellamy let it go, knowing Clarke would talk to him when she was ready.

Bellamy picked up Clarke, hooking his arm under her knees and the other around her back. He was careful not to touch the wound or make any sudden movement that could rip out the stitches or cause Clarke any unnecessary pain. 

“You’re so light,” Bellamy remarked. She was nearly skin and bones now, and noticeably lighter than she had been when Bellamy had rushed her back to camp after the attack.

“Near death experiences tend to make that happen,” she responded lightly. “Now come on, let’s go outside."


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end of this chapter was by far the most emotional for me to write. It was intense writing it, so I hope you enjoy.

Luckily, not too many people were around when Bellamy emerged from the Ark with Clarke in his arms.

Bellamy chuckled when Clarke pressed herself closer to his chest, eyes darting back and forth warily. 

“Don’t worry. Raven isn’t around. Just relax,” Bellamy said, but Clarke remained tense in his arms.

“Set me down in that patch of grass over there, quickly.” Clarke pointed to a scraggly bit of grass growing up against the side of the Ark. “If anyone asks, I got here by walking.” Clarke’s eyes bored into Bellamy’s sternly. He simply nodded and rolled his eyes a little when she looked away.

Bellamy eased Clarke out of his arms carefully so she was standing on her feet. She clutched his arm with both of her hands. Bellamy could feel her legs shaking. Her body was weak, and he could only guess how frustrated that made her feel.

“Do you want to sit?” Bellamy asked.

“No.” Clarke gritted her teeth together. “I need to get strong again. I can’t do that if I can’t even stand up for a minute.”

Bellamy tried to reason with her. “You haven’t let yourself heal completely. Maybe wait a little longer. You were dying a week ago,” he said insistently. “Plus your mom would kill me if she knew I let you outside.”

“I need to do this,” Clarke said firmly. “I need to get better so I can get the others out of Mount Weather.” She was breathing hard now, and Bellamy was certain her knees were about to give out. Before Clarke realized what Bellamy was doing, he swung her up into his arms again and sat down in the grass so he was leaning against the Ark wall. Clarke leaned against his chest, practically in his lap.

Clarke gasped with surprise and pulled away from Bellamy so she was leaning against the Ark next to him instead of sitting on top of him. 

“What was that for?” With a scowl on her face, Clarke punched Bellamy’s arm lightly.

“You were about to collapse,” Bellamy said.

“Was not,” she shot back.

“Oh, so I guess your shaking legs was just you dancing?” Bellamy replied.

“Okay, fine.” Clarke crossed her arms and pouted. “Why do you even care?”

A jolt of painful familiarity shot through Bellamy at this question. “...I wonder why you even bothered, why you even cared…” Clarke’s words from a few days ago echoed back in Bellamy’s head, and he wondered what would happen if he repeated the same words he had said to her then: “We need you, Clarke. The 100 needs you, your mom needs you, the injured and sick need you.” Only this time, Bellamy wouldn’t cut off. He wouldn’t stop himself from saying “I need you.” 

Instead of this, he said, “I care about you.” When Clarke looked at him questioningly, he shrugged and said, “We’re friends.”

“Yes,” Clarke said in a strangely mechanical way. “We’re friends.”

They fell silent and Bellamy became aware of Clarke’s arm pressing up against his. He fought the urge to put his arm around her shoulder. 

The wind blew and Clarke took in a deep breath, closing her eyes. “I missed the wind,” she whispered. “Being stuck in there—it reminds me of when I was in solitary on the Ark,” she confessed, opening her eyes and looking at Bellamy.

“That’s why you wanted to come outside so badly,” Bellamy said. If he’d been locked up by himself for that long, he knew he wouldn’t want to be stuck indoors for long periods of time either. 

“That, and I was bored out of my mind,” Clarke smiled. She took another deep breath and she let the air go shakily when she breathed back out. “Bellamy.”

“Yeah?”

“I need to ask you something important.” She shifted nervously and picked at the dry grass.

“Of course.” Bellamy straightened up, giving her his full attention. Was she finally going to continue that conversation they both knew she was avoiding? If she was, Bellamy never got to find out because Abby chose that moment to make an appearance. She hurried over with her worried-mother face. 

“What on earth are you doing, Clarke? You need to be in bed,” Abby scolded.

“Mom, I’m fine, really,” Clarke said. “I just needed air.”

Abby knelt down and felt Clarke’s forehead, then completely yanked up Clarke’s shirt to check the wound. All of the pale skin of Clarke’s upper torso was exposed from her hips to her (thankfully covered) chest. Bellamy turned away quickly.

“Mom!” Clarke gasped, pushing her shirt back down. “Not outside!” She was blushing with embarrassment, but allowed Bellamy and Abby to take her back inside. With their combined effort, they managed to get Clarke back into her bed safely. 

As Abby checked the cut, Bellamy stood by. He couldn’t help but notice that Clarke was avoiding his eyes, a light blush still lingering in her cheeks. 

Bellamy wanted to see if Clarke would still ask him that important question she had, but it didn’t look likely as Abby injected Clarke with some type of anesthetic, much to Clarke’s dismay.

“I’m sorry, Clarke,” Abby said as Clarke’s eyes began to shut. “You need to give yourself more time to recover.” She stroked Clarke’s hair and whispered, “I can’t lose you too.”

 

Two days after Clarke’s little excursion, Bellamy went to the med bay to visit her, and found her once again getting out of bed. This time Abby was there helping; she had finally said Clarke was well enough to start gaining back her strength. 

“Clarke,” Abby said as she helped her daughter to stand. “Please understand that you probably won’t get far. Your muscles have weakened so this won’t be easy.”

Clarke nodded and gripped Abby’s arm tightly as she took her first steps towards the door. She hadn’t walked in over a week, so she shuffled hesitantly and slowly. When she made it to where Bellamy stood leaning against the doorway, she grinned, ecstatic to be back on her feet.

Bellamy grinned back.

Clarke began to take longer and firmer steps out the door. Bellamy followed closely with his arm hovering protectively near the small of her back in case she started to fall. 

“I feel like a baby taking my first steps,” Clarke said.

Bellamy was surprised to see that Clarke was still smiling as she said this; he had expected more of the frustration he’d seen the other day when Clarke failed to make it past the bed. 

“If you’re the baby then I’m the proud mother,” Abby said with a laugh.

“What does that make me?” Bellamy asked, playing along.

“The overprotective big brother,” Clarke immediately said. “Which is what you actually are if there is any truth to Octavia’s complaints about how overprotective you are.” Clarke smiled wryly. 

“Hey!” Bellamy said. “Is that really what Octavia says about me?” 

“Are you honestly surprised?” Clarke asked. She paused her walking when she reached the ramp sloping down to the ground outside.

Abby rushed forward and let Clarke put her hand on Abby’s arm to keep her steady. Bellamy appeared at Clarke’s other side and guided her hand to his armk. Clarke smiled at him gratefully, giving his arm a grateful squeeze.

The three of them descended the ramp, and Clarke placed her feet triumphantly in the dirt, reminding Bellamy of the first day the 100 arrived on the ground and how Octavia had proudly stepped onto the earth. This was less climactic, but still an accomplishment all the same, especially considering the condition Clarke had been not too long ago.

“I want to walk the perimeter of camp at least once,” Clarke asserted confidently. 

Abby sighed. “You can certainly try, but it might be too much.

“I can do it,” Clarke said stubbornly. 

“Not by yourself,” Abby warned. “Look, I have to get to a meeting.” She turned to Bellamy. “Can you help Clarke around?”

“No problem,” Bellamy said.

“Thanks, Bellamy.” Abby turned to walk away, throwing a “be careful, Clarke,” over her shoulder. 

Just like that, it was only the two of them, Bellamy and Clarke. 

Bellamy cleared his throat. “Which way, Princess?” 

Clarke studied the slowly awakening camp, seemingly searching for something. “There.” She pointed across camp to where Raven and Octavia could be seen practicing fighting. Octavia had taken it upon herself to teach Raven how to fight, Grounder-style. Raven took to it right away, and she was particularly adept at using a sword. The only problem was Raven’s leg brace; occasionally it would lock and get stuck, causing her to topple over. She was managing until Wick got around to building her a more flexible brace. Raven could be heard hounding him about it for the past few weeks. 

“You sure you want to go all the way over there?” Bellamy shielded the sun with his hand, mentally measuring the distance. It had to be at least 100 yards across, and he wasn’t sure Clarke would make it there and back. He knew she would still try anyway, making his question pretty much rhetorical.

Clarke gave him the “are you serious?” eye roll and said, “Of course I’m sure.” With that, she let go of Bellamy’s arm and set off slowly across to her friends.

Bellamy walked close beside Clarke in case she needed to hold on to his arm for support. She probably wouldn’t unless he made her. She was too stubborn for her own good. Bellamy had to admire her strong will, though. Clarke didn’t know what giving up was. She had not given up even at her very worst when it would have been all too easy to give in to the call of death. 

As Clarke and Bellamy were walking, Clarke’s shoulder bumped into Bellamy’s arm several times before she told him, “You don’t have to walk so close to me, Bellamy. I’m fine.”

He stepped away from her quickly and said, “Right. Sorry.” He still watched her carefully though, looking for signs that she might need help or want to take a break. She looked okay, and they reached Octavia and Raven without incident.

“Clarke!” Raven spotted them first and dropped her sword to the ground. She met Clarke with a hug and said, “Hey, now I’m not the only one with a bum leg. You’ve got two!” She grinned and Clarke pulled Raven in tighter, smiling into her hair. 

When they pulled away, Octavia came forward and wrapped Clarke in a quick hug. “It’s good to see you outside again. I was getting too used to seeing you lying around in bed all day.”

“I thought I’d never get out,” Clarke said, “but my mom finally decided to let me go.”

“With a bodyguard,” Raven said, indicating Bellamy.

“I’m just making sure our Princess stays safe,” Bellamy said, raising his hands in mock defense. This truly was Bellamy’s motive, and to him it was a serious matter. He had nearly lost Clarke and he wasn’t ready to forget it anytime soon. 

“Well,” Octavia said, “I know how she can keep herself safe.”

Bellamy raised his eyebrows.

“By learning to fight!” Octavia made a sudden lunge at Raven, who succeeded in ducking and taking up her sword from the ground, then spinning into a confident fighting stance. A smile played at Raven’s lips when Octavia looked surprised.

“You’ve taught me well,” Raven laughed. She jammed the point of her sword into the dirt and leaned against it casually. She sized up Clarke and said, “Once you’re better, me and Octavia will teach you to fight.” 

“What do you say, Clarke?” Octavia asked eagerly. 

“I say yes,” Clarke replied with a slightly mischievous glint in her eyes.

“Don’t get too excited,” Bellamy said. “You’ve still got a long way to go before you’ll be wielding swords.” Bellamy hated to bring her back to reality, but Clarke was getting ahead of herself. She could hardly walk let alone learn sword fighting. 

Sensible Clarke returned as Bellamy watched her eager face fall back into seriousness. “You’re right,” Clarke sighed. She gave Octavia and Raven a brief smile before saying, “I guess we’ll leave you two to training.”

Octavia and Raven both stepped forward to give Clarke another hug before they ran back to their swords, laughing as they playfully fought. It didn’t escape Bellamy’s notice how Clarke looked longingly after them. 

“Let’s get you walking so you can join them soon,” Bellamy said. He placed a hand on the small of Clarke’s back to lead her forward. They walked along the edge of Camp Jaha’s fence in thoughtful silence.

Bellamy wondered for the millionth time what Clarke was thinking, and if she’d bring up that important question she had wanted to ask him . He thought about bringing it up himself, but when it came down to it, he was too afraid, and the words got stuck in his throat. 

There was a tangible strain in the air resulting from unspoken words, yet neither vocalized it. Bellamy did figure that at some point on of them would give in and say what needed to be said . Exactly what that was, Bellamy was unsure of.

He abandoned his thoughts when Clarke started noticeably slowing down. Bellamy could see her hand clutching at her wounded side discreetly, as if she thought he wouldn’t actually notice her struggling. They weren’t even three quarters of the way around the fence’s perimeter, and Bellamy, knowing Clarke, had the feeling she was embarrassed by this fact. She probably didn’t want to seem weak. Bellamy would never call Clarke weak. She was the strongest person he knew. Sure, she was physically weak at the moment, but she was as strong as ever in spirit and will.

“Clarke, you should take a break,” Bellamy said softly. He didn’t want to sound commanding. Clarke was never one to take orders from him, or anyone for that matter. 

To Bellamy’s surprise, Clarke just nodded in a sadly resigned way, and that’s how Bellamy knew she must really be struggling; she didn’t argue even once about going on when she was clearly about to collapse. 

Taking her by the waist, Bellamy helped lower Clarke to the ground in a sitting position. He settled beside her and wrapped an arm around her shoulder, gently pulling her so she rested limply against his side. She closed her eyes and took deep breaths, trying to get her breathing under control. 

Their backs leaned up against a large scrap of the Ark that had broken off during the descent and buried itself in the ground near the fence’s perimeter. It was warm in the early morning sunlight, and soon Bellamy was filled with a warmth that he wasn’t sure came from the metal or from the the feeling of their outstretched legs pressed against each other, the tickle of Clarke’s glowing hair brushing Bellamy’s chin, and the way he could feel the softness of Clarke’s skin through her thin shirt. It was a miracle he didn’t blurt out something right then and there about how much he loved her. But it turned out he didn’t have to say anything because Clarke said it for him. 

“Remember that important thing I was going to ask you?” Clarke said once her breathing calmed. 

“Yes,” Bellamy said. As if he could possibly forget.

“When I was...dying,” she said carefully, “I remembered—or maybe dreamt, something strange. It’s hard to pinpoint what was going on…” she trailed off and squeezed her eyes shut as she struggled to extract the dream—memory—whatever she thought it was. 

Bellamy’s heart sped up. Clarke had heard him. She had felt him kiss her. She remembered somehow, and Bellamy was scared that she would figure out it was real almost as much as he was scared she would pass it off as a dream. He wanted her to know, but was she ready? Would she push him away? Bellamy’s heart pumped even faster with renewed nervousness as he imagined Clarke’s various reactions. 

Clarke rubbed her temples. “It was dark, but there lights—colors, like tiny electric wires sparking behind my eyelids.”

Bellamy listened, entranced.

“I know it sounds crazy, but I was dying, I was going, I could feel myself—leaving.” Her voice was strained and she shook her head back and forth in confusion. 

Clarke suddenly became very still. “I was numb,” she whispered.” Her eyes gazed somewhere far off in the distance. “The lights were dimming and I could still sense myself in my body, but it was as if my body was already dead but I—my soul…was still there.” She was shaking, so Bellamy held her more tightly.

“God, Bellamy,” Clarke choked. “I was so scared. My body was numb, paralyzed, but I was still there. It was like I was trapped in all this emptiness, but at the same time I could still feel the heaviness of my body.” The words were spilling out of her faster now, and although a lot of it didn’t make sense to Bellamy, he listened. Clarke was literally describing herself dying. and Bellamy was terrified for her. She was telling him what it felt like to die, and he hated that she had ever gotten close enough to death to even be able to tell him all of this. 

“It didn’t hurt anymore and I wished it had because that would’ve been better than the empty numbness.” She paused to wipe the tears from her face. 

“But then I felt something…” she trailed off and brought up her hand to brush across her lips. For the first time since Clarke had started talking, she looked at Bellamy, right in his eyes. 

Bellamy looked back into Clarke’s eyes and he could see in them that Clarke knew—she knew it was real, and that it was him. In the emptiness of her death, there were no dreams, only reality, and Bellamy had been a reality. 

“You heard me?” Bellamy whispered. He was locked in her gaze, couldn’t escape, didn’t want to escape, couldn’t for a moment tear himself from her.

“I _felt _you,” Clarke said in a whisper broken by sobs. “I felt you on my lips and suddenly I was there again. It was all coming back. Then I heard your voice and felt you squeeze my hand.”__

“What did I say?” Bellamy asked. He was pleading with her, asking her to remember his words and know that he meant it when he said them.

Their faces were so close—God they were so close Bellamy could see the teardrops clinging to Clarke’s eyelashes, could see the sky moving in her eyes, could feel her warm breath on his face. 

One teardrop fell from Clarke’s cheek. It landed on Bellamy’s hand, which was now clenching Clarke’s tightly. 

Clarke took a took breath and fixed her eyes on Bellamy’s with an intensity he had never seen before from anyone. “I love you, Clarke. Rest in peace, Princess,” she breathed out, her voice rising into a sob at the end of “princess.”

Bellamy reached up and wiped away the tears cascading down Clarke’s face. He kept his hand there on the side of her face, and Clarke brought her hands up to rest on his. 

“Did you mean it?” Clarke asked. Her eyes didn’t waver one bit when she asked this. 

“Every word,” Bellamy confirmed. “I love you,” he told her again, no longer fearing her reaction because she knew—she’d seen to the very core of his heart and nothing he said now could be something Clarke didn’t already know, couldn’t already see in his eyes and hear in his voice.

Clarke took in his words for a few seconds before responding, “I love you, too.”

And then Clarke moved in closer until her forehead rested on Bellamy’s. They listened to each other breathing, listened to the life flowing in and out of their lungs, the life pulsing through their veins. They were alive, they were both alive and nothing was in the way anymore so they kissed, Bellamy’s lips sparking Clarke to life again just as they had that first time when she was nearly gone from his life. 

They kissed gently and tentatively at first, but then Bellamy’s hand tangled in Clarke’s wild hair and she responded by threading her hands through the curls at the nape of Bellamy’s neck, pulling him closer. They had wasted too much time to pretend they didn’t want this—didn’t want this encompassing love.

Bellamy kissed away the tears from Clarke’s face, but now they were tears of happiness and the tears from the ache that comes from having someone love you with everything they’ve got.  
When they stopped, both out of breath, faces flushed, Clarke snuggled into Bellamy’s arms and said, “You saved my life, Bellamy. Twice.”

“Twice?” Bellamy asked. 

“The first time when you carried me back to camp after the Grounder attack.”

“And the second?”

“The second was when I was dying and your love convinced me to stay.”

“You know they say true love’s kiss has great power,” Bellamy chuckled.

“Bellamy Blake,” Clarke sighed. “You are, without a doubt, the cheesiest person I have ever met.”

“But you love me anyway, right?” Bellamy teased, poking Clarke lightly in the ribs.

Clarke slapped his hand away, laughing. “I love you anyway.”

_End. ___

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for sticking with this story until the end. This is the end, for real. And I think this is the real ending and the first one I wrote is the alternate ending because this one feels right. Please comment! Thanks lovelies :)


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